


Barely Even Friends

by katmarajade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Going Into Business Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:31:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2073489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/pseuds/katmarajade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco needs something.  Neville needs something.  Enter an idea so crazy that it just might work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barely Even Friends

Theirs was an unlikely partnership, but sometimes the best ones were. After the war, Draco was acquitted, but his _not guilty_ verdict did not change the fact that no one wanted to hire an ex-Death Eater, even a not-quite-as-awful-as-the-rest sort. The bulk of the family fortune frozen with Mr Malfoy in Azkaban, Draco and his mother lived off of her private funds and the small percentage of Draco's trust that he was able to access before his twenty-first birthday.

Neville was a war hero, scarred and weathered. He was offered jobs all over the United Kingdom, but his dream was to set up shop in Hogsmeade and live quietly. Unfortunately, plant shops were not quite as lucrative as he might have hoped and he really wasn't much of a business man. He wanted to grow plants, herbs, and other flora, but the actual "doing something with the product" bit, that was much more difficult.

Neville had gotten the loan easily enough—no real problem when you're one of the most lauded warriors of a recent epic battle and your grandmother is a pillar of strength and propriety in the community. However, it was going very poorly. He'd only had four people stop by all week and only two had purchased anything. It did not take an impressive knack for maths to realise he couldn't make a living at this rate.

Their first encounter happened on a Friday afternoon at a small pub just across the way from Neville's newly opened shop. Draco stormed in, frustrated after being turned down for two positions he was perfectly qualified for. Tersely ordering a glass of red, he dropped melodramatically into a seat at the table next to Neville.

"Malfoy," Neville said, his voice surprisingly neutral. Draco turned and sneered out of sheer force of habit, but let the expression drop after only a moment. Neville couldn't help but think that Draco's heart must not be in it.

"Hello, Longbottom. How are you?"

Neville assessed the tired grey eyes and felt compelled to give a real answer instead of his stock response. "I'm trying to open my own business—plants and herbs—but it's gone quite awfully so far actually."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "A shop, you say? Well, people need herbs and ingredients for potions so you've got demand and I'm assuming your product is at least adequate. Plus, there's the post-war economy boom going on, which means a ready market. Maybe you just need more word of mouth." Draco glanced out the window and narrowed his eyes as he spied Neville's place of business. "And obviously a much better sign. Honestly, Longbottom, this isn't the Dark Ages. People can read these days and expect a bit of polish and pizzazz. Did you make that monstrosity of a shop sign yourself?"

Neville flushed, not wanting to admit to having indeed crafted the admittedly less-than-perfect wooden sign himself.

The server brought Draco's wine and a small cup of soup. With precise strokes, Draco stirred through the thick broth, the spoon drawing perfect figure eights amidst the vegetables. Neville's brow scrunched up at he watched causing Draco to roll his eyes dramatically.

"Is business truly so bad you can't even afford a cup of soup, Longbottom?"

"You're quite a dab hand a Potions, aren't you, Malfoy? You always were top of the class."

Draco raised a blond eyebrow, his expression nonplussed, yet somehow still supercilious. "Better than you, anyway."

"How would you like to go into business with me?"Neville asked brightly.

"What? Are you mad, Longbottom? I'm rubbish with greenery and certainly have no interest in woodworking you a better sign."

"No, listen. I've got the shop and the plants, but I've no head for numbers or business. You could come on and fix things up on that end. _Plus_ , we could have you brew up a few standard potions—nothing too crazy, just whatever you think would have the best market, and sell those! I bet you'd be a much better salesperson too, as you're all charming and posh and knowledgeable. People like that."

Draco stared at him in what was either shock or horror.

"And," Neville continued enthusiastically, really getting into his new idea, "that way I could work in the greenhouse more and stick to answering plant-related questions. This is brilliant! What do you say, Malfoy? Are you seeing the potential here?"

"You want me to work for you selling potions and plants?" Draco asked in a condescending tone. Neville ignored it, rightly figuring it to be a Malfoy sort of knee jerk reaction to any reasonable question.

"No, I don't want you to work for me," Neville responded adamantly.

Draco's expression soured and he lifted his chin haughtily. "Well, I'll have you know I didn't need your pitying job offer _anyway_ ," he said with a huff.

Neville rolled his eyes. "Malfoy ... Draco. I want you to be my business partner. All the rights, privileges, responsibilities, et cetera, et cetera. I'm clearly pants at this sort of thing and need the help. You are the obvious choice. It's not quite as glamorous as what you probably wanted to do with your life, but it's good work."

"Well, let me think about it. I can't just throw myself into some ill-advised business venture without a bit of research, can I?" Draco sniffed and took a long sip of pinot noir.

Neville watched closely and saw how the tense lines around Draco's eyes relaxed and the slightest hint of relief or happiness or something positive played at the perfect smirk of Draco's mouth. It wasn't much, but it was something. Shaking his head with surprising fondness, Neville couldn't help but think this was the best decision he'd made in a long time.

***

As the years passed and those haughty grey eyes grew warmer and fonder, Neville's gut feeling was proven right. The shop flourished under Draco's keen eye for advertising and his shrewd business sense. Neville got to spend most of his time with his plants, away from the bustle of the street and the confusion of the sales. Draco completed his Potions Mastery and was able to start selling more complicated potions, which increased their profits exponentially, especially having grown most of the ingredients in house. Their friendship blossomed and shifted quietly, subtly.

And then one Friday afternoon, Neville came out of the greenhouse to find Draco waiting impatiently, eyebrows up and faux irritable expression in place. With a smile, Neville placed his dirty hand in Draco's, and Draco, who hated getting his hands dirty and wore gloves every time he handled the plants or brewed potions, simply held on; and together they walked home.


End file.
